You See Us As You Want To See Us
by TheLoneReed
Summary: You see us as you want to see us: A brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. But what happens next? After the final punch of a fist in the sky and the last power chord?


"Claire! Get up now!" said a shrill voice which Claire regarded with the utmost hatred. "I swear, I'm just going to have to buy you a new alarm clock! You know your father had to go out and get one with just about the quietest alarm in the damned world because he didn't want to disturb your _beauty rest!_ I'll give you beauty rest, I slave all day over a hot stove and washing machine, and what does he do......." her mother's nasally voice trailed down the hallway as she made her way downstairs to make the perfect "Betsy-home-maker" breakfast for her perfectly _darling _daughter.

Claire Standish reached her hands up and her delicate fingers pushed away the pink, lacey eye mask that she often wore to bed. The sunlight pouring through her bedroom window flooded her overly large room and made her smile in contentment. That was, of course, until she remembered what had happened only the day before yesterday.

Saturday.

In detention on Saturday...well...ok, so she had made friends. Real friends. But would she keep them? I mean, sometimes you don't have a choice as to who your friends are, meaning that she had made a real connection with those people and...and well they were her friends. But was she going to acknowledge them, at least acknowledge them as her friends? Well, Andrew Clark would most definitely not be a problem. He was part of the "in-crowd", he was acceptable to talk to and she wouldn't be shunned from her inner circle if she did. But the others-Brian, Allison,...and John- those people were different. She knew in all reality that they weren't really that different from her, except for the fact that they had it much harder than her in terms of their home life. 

But still, what would happen if she did talk to them? Oh man, like she didn't know. Her friends would wonder if she had gone mad, finally coming to the conclusion that she was really just one of the freaks and she would soon become isolated, her social life diminishing to almost nothing. _Of course_, she thought, _it would relieve so much pressure._ _It would take the worry of what everyone thought of me off of my shoulders_. The losers thought they had it bad, but what about _her_? I mean, at least they could do what they wanted and no one would care because they already thought they were freaks. But _she_, she had it hard. Why couldn't her new found friends understand that?

But then she remembered what Bender...what John had said. He had gotten so mad at her when all she had done was be honest.

_You are such a bitch!_

She knew he would never be able to understand how much those words stung. But maybe they were supposed to, maybe there had been something to it when he told her that even though she knew how horrible that was to do to someone, she still didn't have the guts to stand up to her friends. But he didn't _understand_! If he was in her place, or Andy's rather, he would _know _how hard it was to keep the high social standing, how important it was.

Besides, her mother would flip if she knew her daughter even _looked _at someone like John, or Allison, or dared hang out with a total nerd like Brian.

She sighed heavily and angrily pushed the worried thoughts from her mind as she picked her body daintily up and out of bed, stretching and yawning lightly, bending down and pulling off her frilly, sheer, pink nightgown which fell in a crumpled heap beside her as she grabbed her warmest robe and entered her personal bathroom, grinning as she looked at the sickeningly recurring theme of "pink-pink-pink!". She pulled off her lacy under things and stepped into the shower, turning on the steaming water and letting it wash all over her, hoping I would clear her mind and magically tell her what the right answer was. 

But no such luck.

Fifteen minutes later she stepped out of the shower, clean and refreshed but with the same worries that had plagued her since the moment she left Saturday detention, just minutes after she had given John her very first kiss. 

Kicking herself for once again thinking of their little "breakfast club", the common term for people in early Saturday detention as the time you had to meet was right around breakfast, she pulled on some fresh and clean under things, leaving the other, dirty ones along with her nightgown on the floor for the maid to pick up. She searched her gigantic wardrobe in the endless quest to find just the right outfit for today, though this time her heart wasn't quite in it. 

She looked out the window and saw that the day was a bit dreary but it promised at least a hint of sunshine. She took out a denim skirt that reached just below her knees and bit her lip in a pondering state before finally choosing an off-white shirt that rode gently on her neck on one side and left her other shoulder bare and exposed. She smiled as she selected a pair of peach boots that stopped along her mid calf, slipping them on along with the rest of her clothes and refusing to look in the mirror until her hair and make up were complete.

"Claire! Ten minutes!" yelled her mother in her usual agitated tone. Claire could just picture her mother standing with her hair set perfect, a hand on her hip, her brown eyes sharp and flashing as she wondered why she couldn't have been blessed with a boy, instead of the disappointment that was Claire.

Claire groaned and set her blow dryer up high with one hand, fluffing out her hair as she tried desperately with the other to apply a thin and discreet line of eyeliner. "Ow!" she yelped as she proceeded to poke herself in the eye with the pencil, dropping it quickly and frowning at her now red eye. "I'll just do it at school...." she muttered with a scowl, finishing her hair quickly and grabbing her make up bag, running down the stairs, her boots clicking across the gleaming linoleum of their kitchen as she grabbed her perfectly packed lunch from the counter and ignored the breakfast on the stove. Even if she had had time for it, that bacon would have most definitely gone straight to her thighs.

"Claire! What the hell is taking you so long!? Get down he-" Mrs. Standish's stern voice was cut short as her red headed daughter flew past her, grabbing her back pack and rushing out the door. 

Her partially eye lined eyes brightened when met with the sight of her sleek and classic BMW, her recent birthday present from her daddy that she loved to pieces. 

She looked up when her mother peeked her head into the garage, her brandy colored lips pursed in some sort of a warning glare. "I swear Claire Marie Standish, if you _dare _ditch class again I will have your head on a platter! There are only so many things I can explain to my ladies book group before your crazy antics drive us to become anti-socialites!" she said in exasperation. Claire narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to retaliate but her mother pulled her head back in and the door shut with a particularly loud slam.

Claire sighed heavily and glanced at her Rolex watch. Seeing she only had three minutes to get to school, otherwise she might cut into her ten minutes of mindless gossiping and shameful flirting, which was some sort of a ritual with she and her friends. She slid into her car and adjusted the mirror perfectly, smiling at herself before turning the keys in the ignition and peeling out of the garage and down the driveway, grinning widely as it was great to be free and out on the open road. Originally she was supposed to have her car taken away for two weeks, according to her mother, but her father had scoffed and told her she was free to drive it starting Monday, most likely proud of himself for at least keeping it away from her the whole weekend, more than his usual punishment for her.

Claire giggled half heartedly as she passed teens from her school, the less "cool" staring at her in awe and her fellow members of the "in-crowd" waving to her with their brilliant smiles that were only one of the things that society made a requirement to be cool. She finally screeched into the school parking lot and pulled into her usual spot that was always open, as everyone knew it was the place for the "queen of the school." 

Deciding she'd rather not do her make up at her locker and be bothered by all of her nagging friends, or by chance have to deal with the fear of having to explain what happened on Saturday, she finished up her make up in her car, grinning at her smooth and perfect reflection in the mirror before stepping out of her car and looking up at the building looming in front of her that somehow seemed so different since she had last left it on Saturday.

Saturday.

~*~*~*~

John Bender winced as he heard his mother's shrieks and could picture another blow from his father penetrating her weak stomach. He tossed his books that were strewn across his room into his torn and faded back pack, sighing heavily as his father's long line of curse words about something or another reached his ears for the hundredth time.

He hadn't been lying when he had talked about his family in Saturday detention. Yeah...Saturday detention. He wasn't sure what he had really come out of that detention with, but his best guess was four new friends that understood him better than anyone else in the world. 

Oh...and then there was Claire...

Oh yeah, back to his family. Yeah, so, he hadn't been lying when he had basically screamed out that his father was abusive and his parents loved him just about as much as one loves the dog poop that they step in right in front of what has to be the biggest crush they've ever had. There wasn't any particular reason his parents hated him or for why his father wailed on him, most likely it was just because he was such a screw up. But I mean, with parents like his, what did ya expect, an honor student?

He growled as the screams of his mother ended and there was a moment of silence before he heard something he knew was coming. "BOY! Where are you?!?" his father's gravely voice yelled up the stairs. Bender grimaced and quickly zipped up his back pack, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and slipping them into his pocket quickly.

"BOY! You best  be answering me!" Suddenly heavy foot steps began to pound on the shaky steps of Bender's old and creaky house, nearing the inevitable destination of Bender's room with some sort of menacing, evil vengeance. Bender took a deep breath and easily slid open his window, looking down at the old and withered bushes below him two stories lower.

His father's footsteps slammed ever nearer to the room and now he was almost there. Bender looked down one last time and fixed his hair casually as his fathers hand twisted the old and rusted door knob. And then, just as the door swung open, his father's angry and purple face caught a glimpse of John Bender dropping out of the window with a grin and landing like a cat on the ground. He straightened up and slung his back pack over one shoulder, glancing up the window where his father leered down at him.

"And don't come back ya fuckin' bastard!" his father spat, his eyes small and blood shot in his head.

Bender shrugged and began walking off backwards, looking at his father. He shook his head one last time before turning around and setting off towards school or wherever the roads led him. He knew he would end up returning home tonight and maybe get a whole new bruise for the mornings events. Boy, what an enjoyable prospect.

As he walked on casually in his regular outfit of baggy jeans and a flannel shirt, accompanied by a dirty and torn jean vest, his heavy combat boots thudded across the cracked pavement. He walked along the edge of the street, his hands shoved in his pockets as he rid himself of every worry in the world, or at least he tried to. 

But his thoughts kept inevitably wandering back to what would or would not happen today with he, Claire, Brian, Andrew, and Allison. Whatever happened the results where sure to be fatal. Claire had made it very clear that there was no way in hell she was going to associate with such members of the lower class as he, Brian, and Allison, not at the risk of losing her _precious _social standing in the school as the world's prissiest bitch.

Well, then it would most likely be just he, Brian, and Allison. Of course Andrew wouldn't be able to give up his friends either, not even for Allison. Sure he played it up like it would be such a horrific thing to shun someone and he would never do it, but Bender knew people well enough to know that Andrew would get to school, and, to no one in particular's surprise, completely ignore everyone who had attended their Saturday detention except for little miss perfect, Claire Standish.

Brian and Allison had nothing to lose, and neither did he. Sure, he had friends that would think he had lost his mind if he ended up talking to those freaks, but it wasn't like they were his leaders or that they were frikin' pansies that made sure everyone in their clique wore the right shade of blush.

The only thing was, he and Claire, they had _kissed. _I mean, sure, he had kissed plenty of girls before in his time, but Claire, Claire had never kissed anyone before. He knew that about her, he didn't have to be told, he knew that the kiss they had given each other that Saturday had been Claire's first, and Bender's best.

But whatever, it was over now and he just had to forget about it. Claire could go on being the school's princess, Andrew could go on being the school jock, and everyone could go on being what they had started out being before the whole stupid thing ever happened. But no matter what, he could stand to admit this to himself as he walked along aimlessly on his way to school, he would never forget what happened on that Saturday.

Saturday.

~*~*~*~

Allyson opened her eyes slowly from where she lay on her empty mattress in her room, the weak and stiff blankets that were supposed to cover her bed lying folded where her mother had placed them maybe a year before. Her pillow lay at the foot of her bed and she lay still on her mattress, slightly cold but numbing herself from feeling anything like she often did on Monday mornings.

She looked over at the clock and saw that it was only 6:00, and that she had two hours to get to school. She sat up in her bed and looked down at herself, still fully clothed in the same clothes from Saturday.

Ah yes, Saturday.

She sighed heavily and stood up, peeling off the pale white, sleeveless blouse and shedding her long black skirt with the peach flowered pattern. She tore off her thick black tights and shivered, looking down at herself in only her under things with a frown. She looked towards her usual wardrobe of layers and layers of unusual and dark clothing and sighed, shaking her head. She felt so different since that Saturday detention, like she wouldn't just go back to the way she was before, it was far too late for that.

She remembered the kiss.

It had been her very first kiss and she shivered at the thought of it, the scene playing over and over again in her mind like a broken record and she loved it. His hand had reached into her lightly fluffed hair and pulled her closer, looking hard at her newly glossed lips before simply kissing her, doing it twice actually. And then she had just felt her heart rate speed up so much she was almost jumping with delight and had to slowly pull away from him, easily tearing his patch from his shoulder and smiling lightly as she separated his clinging hand which made a feeble attempt at holding her back by clutching onto his own blue sweater that had hung around her shoulders. He had gotten into the car and sat down, his gaze immediately finding hers once again and staring at her until he had driven out of sight.

She looked with a lopsided smile over at the blue sweater which was folded neatly and lay on her mattress. She hadn't slept a wink last night, or the night before, only lay there and stared at the sweater, smiling and smelling it and drinking in his scent as she knew this wasn't going to last forever.

Today their little breakfast club would be put to the test when they went to school. Claire Standish would return to being the school princess, Andrew Clark would return to being the school jockstrap, John Bender would return to being the school criminal, Brian Johnson would return to being the school brain, and she, Allison Reynolds, would return to being the school freak.

The school freak that never had any friends, never had anyone care about her, never had anyone talk to her until that Saturday. Andrew had been right, he had been right about everything. He had been right when he said that she was inviting people into her problems. But she was only doing it because what she really wanted more than anything, more than wanting to leave, more than wanting to run away, was just to have someone love her, to have someone _notice _her, for God's sake! So, she was going to _make_ them notice her, because she was invisible if she didn't. 

She bit her lip softly and pulled on a pale, green shirt, sliding on a black skirt that fell softly just below her knees. She slipped a belt around her slim waist and looked over at her night stand where a pair of scissors lay, grabbing the scissors and slicing off her sleeves smoothly, leaving her milk white arms exposed. She walked over to her cracked mirror and looked down at her supply of dark make up, frowning and shaking her head. She picked up the lightest colored eye pencil and smoothed it on gently and carefully, applying a tiny bit of mascara and some light brown eye shadow as well. She brushed on some of her limited supply of blush along her cheek bones and smirked, eyeing the bottle of lip gloss she had never used, having stole it off some priss a while back. She smoothed a bit of it on and carefully lined her lips in a gentle bit of lip liner, reminding herself that next time she would have to put on the lip gloss _after _she traced her lips.

She stepped back just a tiny bit and looked at her face's reflection, hoping for the best as she had done it just how she remembered Claire doing it on Saturday.

She smiled lightly when it looked simply preppy and shrugged, grabbing an old hair brush and fluffing out her hair, finding a white hair band and slipping it into her hair, pushing her dark locks away from her face and grinned, remembering Andrew's words.

_I can see your face..._

_Is that good or bad?_

_It's good...._

She stepped all the way back to view herself in the mirror and lightly smiled, sighing and nodding her head, shooting one last glance to the blue sweater on her bed before grabbing her bag and putting it over her waist, looking down at her belongings which had caused such intrigue in that odd detention and shrugged, walking out the door and down the stairs towards the kitchen. She heard the door slam and walked over to the window, seeing her mother leave off to work without giving her a glance. She knew that her father was already at work and that neither of them would most likely be home until at least 8 o' clock. 

She trudged back into the kitchen and looked at the clock on the wall. 6:30. Well, now she had an hour and a half to blow off. She took out a cereal bowl and opened the fridge, cocking her head to the side and puling out some coke, some ice cream, and going to the cupboard to get some pretzels. She poured the coke in first and glopped on some of the ice cream with a lopsided grin, crushing a few pretzels in her hands and pouring the crumbs onto her creation, making sure every crumb was embedded in the ice cream before taking a spoon and meshing the whole mixture up. She sat down at the kitchen table as she did this, her back resting against the hard wooden chairs her mother had _insisted _on buying from that discount outlet because they were so affordable....and so uncomfortable. When she was finally satisfied that it was good and blended she stared at it, the spoon in her hand. 

She shook her head and threw down the spoon, pulling out from the table and walking towards the foyer. She didn't have much of an appetite anymore. She smiled and pulled on her old cons that were practically falling apart at the seams and smiled lightly at the comfortable feeling she got while still in her old shoes, even when experimenting with all the terribly new clothes and make up.

She slowly walked back towards the kitchen which now read: 6:47. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, figuring, if nothing else, she could get to school early and work on a drawing. She grabbed her book bag which was in just about the same condition as her shoes were and walked out the door, frowning and turning back towards the inside, grabbing her huge black sweater and slipping it on, nodding and shutting the door carefully behind her.

She sighed and shivered lightly as the gentle breeze blew across her bare calves and ankles. She stepped down the cement pathway to the sidewalk and stepped off the curb and onto the outermost, small lane of the black road, scuffing her feet along and staring at the ground, allowing herself to really think about what she was going to do today, what she was going to have to prepare herself for.

Well, Claire had made it quite clear that she would not, under any circumstances, pretend like she had ever known them, and she had also made it pretty obvious that Andrew was definitely going to do the same. But he couldn't, I mean, they had kissed....he had kissed her...and now he was just going to pretend like it never happened? She sighed and kicked a small pebble across the street with a scowl. Yeah, like Andy the jock is going to act like he knows, let alone like he kissed, the freak with the dirty hair who makes odd noises and eats food created straight from the mind of a lunatic. 

She looked up and shook her head sadly. No, he wasn't going to acknowledge her, neither was Claire, neither was Bender for all she knew. Brian would though, and maybe she could find a real friend in Brian, a better friend then in any of the other creeps that would act like her friend and then shun her the first chance their reputation was at stake.

It had been nice though, it had been really nice.  She remembered the look on Andrew's face when she had first walked in after Claire had made her over, the overall shock at how much she had changed in just that Saturday.

Saturday.

~*~*~*~

Andrew drew his chest up to his knees again with a grunt, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead as he did it again, looking at his dad who held his feet down and was counting diligently, doing it once more with a new vigor, wishing his dad would encourage him, compliment him, or at least say something. But he didn't.

Andrew finally stopped and lay back against the bench, breathing in slowly and trying to cool his red hot face. It was 5:30 in the morning and he had already been out at the track with his dad for an hour, just like his was every morning. He only had to bear fifteen more minutes of this though, and then he was left alone to get ready for school.

"204....." muttered his father, jotting the number down on his clip board and looking at his son with somewhat of a disappointed face. "Not as good as I would've hoped, kiddo." He said, making Andrew roll his eyes. He hated the name. _Kiddo. _I mean, he wasn't a kid, and with the way his father drove him he sure hoped he wasn't or there would be some serious child labor laws to enforce.

His father happened to glance towards Andrew's jacket which was resting against his gym bag and looked back up at Andrew, eyeing him with a frown and putting a hand on his hip as though waiting for something. Andrew sighed and at up, wiping some damp, blonde hair off of his forehead and raising an eyebrow at his father, wishing he would just come right out and say it instead of giving him that shitty look. "What?" he finally said, exasperated.

His father frowned deeper and gave him a disapproving look. "Don't give me that, you know just what I'm talking about." he said, making Andrew roll his eyes again. His father scowled and picked up Andrew's jacket, thrusting it towards him. "Just _where _is your champion patch?" he said with a scowl.

Andrew's eyes widened and he looked from the jacket to his father, trying to stay casual. "Allis.....a girl has it." _What was that?!?_ He had been all prepared to tell him that Allison had it, I mean, what would his dad of cared anyway? He didn't know who Allison was. But the thing was, he hadn't said it because at that moment he had felt...ashamed, which he wasn't, right?

His father narrowed his eyes at him and tossed the jacket at his chest. "Get it back." he said sternly, looking him right in the eye as if to _dare _him to argue.

Andrew took a deep breath and looked at his father, holding the jacket closer to him with a shrug. "I..I can't..." he said, nodding. Well, he couldn't, now could he? He couldn't just walk up to her and take it back.

"I said get it back." said his father fiercely, and with that began to walk away. "Make sure you jog to school son, burn some more calories. I'll see you at home." he called back casually, walking towards the car in the parking lot.

Andrew groaned and flopped back against the bench with a sigh, looking at the empty circle on his jacket where the patch had once resided with a small smirk. It was a circle that had been denied of its occupier ever since just that Saturday.

He remembered the kiss.

The way she had looked was just...so...perfect. When she had come through those doors he had felt as though he had to feel her for it to be true, had to make sure it was _really _her and she really _was _the most beautiful creature to ever walk the planet, which she was. And then, he had felt so awkward and giddy like a little boy, not sure of what to say and positive it would all come out stupid. He couldn't stop staring at her the whole day, and then when he saw her face....well how could it be anything but good?!? It was the best thing in the world, and he had felt that all at once. 

And when they had kissed...wow...it was unexplainable. He had tried to hold onto her forever, worried that if she were to leave, so would the moment. He remembered simply watching her all the while as his father drove him away, his dad glancing back at Allison with a shrug.

Then of course his father had lurched into the whole speech about how he must never get caught again, how this could ruin his chances at a scholarship, how in his day he never would have gotten caught and how important it was for Andrew to live up to his level, to raise the bar for himself. After all, he knew what was best for Andrew, didn't he? And for once Andrew didn't care about the fact that his father was being a total bastard, because he wasn't listening. All the while he had only been remembering the feeling of Allison's lips on his own, of her eyes locked to his, and smiling all the while.

But now, it was Monday. Was everything going to change, just like Claire said it would? Would everything go back to the way it was before the five different people that had clashed together on Saturday ever met? No, he couldn't let that happen. Sure, maybe Claire would ignore the other three, but he wouldn't....would he?

He sighed heavily and stood up, grabbing his gym bag along with his jacket and walking into the locker rooms slowly, peeling off his sleeveless tee shirt and gray shorts along with his underwear, turning on the hot water in the showers and stepping inside, wincing as the water burned his skin but ignored it, taking some shampoo and pouring it into his hand, lathering it up and beginning to wash his hair along with his body, pondering all the while what was going to happen.

Well, what if Brian came up to him in the hallway, and he had to be very truthful with himself, what would he do? He bit his lip as he could only see himself greeting Brian with an arrogant air and then cracking jokes about him after he walked dejectedly down the hall. But he didn't _want_ to do that! And what if Bender talked to him, huh? Or....or Allison. What if Allison walked up to him in the halls and said hi, was he just supposed to ignore her and act like nothing ever happened between them? Even if he could do that he knew he wouldn't. But what _would_ he do? He rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the stack and drying himself off, wrapping the white towel around his waist and pulling out his clothes, tugging them on with a shrug and ruffling his hair, deciding he would just let it air dry like it always did. 

OK, so, here's what it came to. If he didn't acknowledge the people from the Saturday detention, besides Claire that is, his reputation would be safe but the three people he'd connected with the most in his whole life would hate him, the girl that he'd connected with the most in his whole life would hate him. If he did acknowledge them then they would accept the fact that he was loyal and he would have their friendship, but then his reputation would be shot and word would start spreading around that he was a freak, and then it would somehow reach his father and he'd have him crawling up his ass even more.

He threw up his hands in frustration and looked down at his loose blue jeans and faded gray tee shirt, slipping on his letterman jacket and once again being reminded of his ever present problem as he stared at the empty circle. Now, to make matters worse, he was going to have to talk to Allison to get the patch back, or else face the wrath of his dad, he didn't know which was worse. It wasn't as if he didn't want to talk to Allison, it's that he was still so confused about his decision about Allison that he didn't know if he would ever really talk to her again except to get the patch back, a concept that was strangely disappointing him to no limits. 

He threw his gym bag over his shoulder and stepped out into the fresh morning air, setting off towards school with a light sigh and a drag in his step. He looked up at the sky wearily and then back down at the ground, watching his faded sneakers scruff along as he began making his way towards his school, a place he had never dreaded so much than since last Saturday.

Saturday.

~*~*~*~

Brian Johnson sighed and rolled over, trying to block out the angry blare of his alarm clock with his pillow. Usually he was bouncing up and down for school, cramming in some extra studying before the bus came by orders of his mother. But today was Monday, and not just any Monday either. It was the first Monday after the coming together of their little breakfast club, the breakfast club that had reluctantly been slammed together just that fateful Saturday. 

He had stayed up half the night last night and no different the night before, tossing and turning over what would happen on Monday. He didn't want to be friends with Claire just because she was cool or just because she was pretty, and he didn't want to be friends with Andrew just because he was a jock, or Bender just because he was tough, or Allison because she was...odd. 

He wanted to be friends with all of them because something had happened on that Saturday, something more than just your ordinary detention. They had really opened up to each other, really shared their problems with each other, really connected with one another. And maybe he was being cheesy or corny or whatever for thinking this, but he considered him to be his friends, his real friends. Andrew had told him he was right in this so he was going to believe it no matter what.

He was going to believe it no matter if Claire ignored him or told him he was a dweeb and to fuck off, he was going to believe it even if Andy made fun of him right there in the hall in front of everyone, and he was going to believe it even if John Bender beat the shit out of him just for being alive and in his line of vision. 

He knew Allison would talk to him, she didn't have anybody to impress and she knew who she was. He didn't think Bender would ignore him either, but he couldn't be sure. A nerd like him hanging out with big old bully John Bender? What would all of Bender's friends think of him, their leader, the king of the delinquents, stopping to have a chat with the school brain. And then Andrew Clark, well, Andrew had basically said there was no way in hell he was going to pretend that Saturday never happened, but then again Brian couldn't exactly picture Andrew and his jock friends making jokes _with _him instead of _about _him. Oh, and Claire Standish, she was never going to look at him as anything other than a dweeb, and certainly not as a friend. She had made it point clear that none of them other than Andrew were to even speak to her again; they just weren't close enough to her high place in society.

He moaned and finally shut off his alarm, rolling out of bed and putting his feet on the floor, tapping the dull, white carpet with his toes. He rubbed his eyes and stood up, yawning and taking a deep breath, stumbling tiredly over to his mirror to try and straighten up. He smirked when he saw his scrawny reflection, clad in faded red boxers and a loose gray tee shirt that practically engulfed his muscle-less body.

"Looking at yourself in da mirror, conceited boy?" he growled as he turned towards is door way to see his little sister standing there with a sneer on her face.

"Get out of my room, Ashley!" he said with a scowl, narrowing his eyes at her and putting his hands on his hips aggrivatedly.

"I'm not _in_ your room, I'm _outside _it!" she said, sticking her nose in the air and pointing to her dirty toes which were wiggling just behind the line of his room. She grinned smugly and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "See?!?" she said with a smirk, lifting a finger and poking it into his room with a sinister laugh which seemed much to evil for a girl that young, but Brian knew it was possible, all too possible.

"I said get out!" he yelled, lunging at her and grinning when she shrieked and ran down the stairs, yelling at the top of her lungs that she was going to tell mom about how he almost strangled her to death.

Brian rolled his eyes and closed the door, locking it and leaning against it slowly, breathing in a deep sigh and letting it out. He stood up and walked over to his dresser, opening the drawer and scowling at clothes his mother had bought for him at some store that was probably called, "Dress-Your-Boy-Like-A-Sissy!". He pulled out some clean cut jeans and tore off his boxers, pulling on some white underwear along with his jeans. He stripped off his night shirt and struggled into a loose, navy blue tee shirt. He shrugged and picked up his pajamas that he had flung on the floor, neatly folding them and placing them in the dirty clothes hamper like his mother had instructed him to do ever since he had begun wearing pull-up diapers. 

He took a brush and tried to flatten or at least tame his mat of hair, rolling his eyes when there was no such luck and doing the best he could to make it look as acceptable as possible. He finally set down in brush and looked in the mirror, deciding it would have to do and walked over to his bed, making it smoothly and groaning as he did the "hospital corners" like his mother always told him to...every single day of his life. 

He opened the door and made his way downstairs, ignoring his little sister's triumphant look that she graced him with when he entered the perfectly aligned kitchen, color coded with matching dish ware and all. 

"Brian, don't terrorize your sister." Brian jumped as his mother appeared out of no where in front of him, giving him a disapproving look as she set his bowl of cereal, orange juice, and half a tangerine in front of him, all aligned on a placemat which just happened to perfectly coordinate with the colors of the kitchen.

Brian sighed and rolled his eyes, making sure she didn't see. He sat down in his chair and took a gulp of orange juice, setting it down and lifting his sleeve to wipe his mouth on, but his mother had eyes not only on the back of her head, but all over her body and she turned around to give him a warning stare, making him apprehensively take a napkin to carefully wipe his mouth, to which he was rewarded with a nod and a click of heels as his mother walked over to the cabinet to rearrange her spices....for the third time....that week. 

"Did you do hospital corners?" his mother asked, just like he knew she would, her face not looking over at his as she frowned and moved the nutmeg over two places, looking at it and smiling lightly.

"_Yes_, mom, I did hospital corners." He said aggrivatedly, poking at his cereal and not even regarding the tangerine, his stomach already churning with anticipation of what would happen to him today.

His mother nodded curtly and looked over at him, narrowing her eyes. "And I want you to understand that if you ever get just one more detention, young man-"

"You'll send me to military school where I'll be sure to see that the life I have here is cushy and full of luxuries I surely don't deserve." Finished off Brian in a monotone voice, the speech drilled into his head so much he felt like he wanted to scream.

His mother pursed her lips tightly and frowned at him. "Do not interrupt me, Brian Keith Johnson." She snapped sharply, then nodded. "That is correct, either you get right on your studies and make _sure _you maintain your grade point average or you don't even want to _know _what'll happen to you." She said and with that closed the cabinet quickly, satisfied with her work and with her lecturing.

Brian nodded and inwardly rolled his eyes, her voice playing over and over in his head, only sped up so it sounded like a chipmunk, a really.....annoying chipmunk. "Listen, Mom, can you drive me to school today?" he asked, turning towards her hopefully and setting down his spoon, his cereal now soggy and limp, lying in his milk.

His mother looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, cocking her head to the side. "What's wrong with the bus, Brian?" she prompted him tightly, her perfectly aligned hair set in a tight bun and her stainless dress swaying lightly.

"Nothing...it's just...." Brian started, sighing heavily. He couldn't tell his mother that he didn't want to take the bus because getting pushed around and having his seat taken from him for the hundredth time was not exactly something he was feeling up to, at least not this particular morning. So, he would lie. "It's just I have to work on an extra credit project for Mr. Limpky in the library, and I want to get there early so I can get as much work done as possible to make it really top notch!" He said enthusiastically, hoping she would buy it despite his sickening cheeriness.

His mother's thin lips twisted into a smile and she nodded approvingly. "All right, Brian, good to see you're getting ahead in your school work. Put your dishes in the sink, if we want you to get anything done on your project this morning we better leave now." she said, already pulling on her coat and shoving Ashley into hers.

Brian nodded and picked up his dishes and untouched tangerine, plopping them in the sink and quickly grabbing his coat from the closet, taking his back pack which was free of any "hand held graffiti" as his mother called it, clean and un-torn and impossibly dweeby. He stepped out into the garage and waited for his mother and sister to come out, his mother unlocking the door and climbing in, Ashley after her, and finally in went Brian, closing the door and leaning against it with a sigh. He nodded when his mother gestured towards him and slipped on a seat belt, resting his head on his hand as they pulled slowly out of the driveway, going at just the right speed in the direction of his school.

And as they rode Brian couldn't help but wonder what would happen today. Today was different because of what had happened last Saturday.

Saturday.

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HOLYBAJEEBERS THAT WAS LONG!!! Haha. I didn't mean to make it that long....it just...woah. Yeah, that's like, 7000 characters man! OK, sorry, ANYWAY! If it totally and completely sucks, please tell me, but in a nice and kind way, maybe leave me a basket of cookies and your condolences. Oh, and make 'em chocolate chips, it totally wastes a cookie to put nuts in 'em ya know. Well, maybe that's just me since I'm not a big fan of nuts cuz they always get stuck in my teeth and when I had braces.....wait....where was I? lol. SO! Please please PLEASE review no matter what you thought of it. I'm usually a pretty regular updater so if you did like it that's good news, and if you didn't....then shove it because you don't havta read it, butt face. Haha. 

Swing Heil

~~Randy~~

OH, yeah, and disclaimer and such for like, all the chapters and such, I don't own The Breakfast Club or any of the characters.....I just use voo doo to make them do whatever I want....mwahahahahahaa! Ha!


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